Broken Hearts
by spottedhorse
Summary: His heart was broken and only she could mend it. My response to S5-5.


This has been developing in my mind since I watched the last episode. JF really needs to fix things with Robert and Cora!

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><p>She was angry with him, really angry; Robert Crawley couldn't remember her ever being this upset with him except for that time after Sybil's death. But that was different. This was different. It was his fault; he knew that much. He'd been an ass, justifiably so in his own mind, but still… an ass. But she was hurt too. He had hurt her, deeply. But wasn't it her fault too… encouraging that …that scoundrel, Bricker?<p>

Alone in the library, sipping on Scotch and wishing he knew how to repair the damage he'd done, how to make her smile at him again, his anger was stirring again. He missed her smile. He missed her. It was as if they were caught in some horrible maze, living in the same space and yet not with one another.

He thought of Shrimpie Flincher. On their last visit to Scotland, Shrimpie's words had hit him squarely in the chest. He'd been so caught up in his own troubles that he hadn't realized how much he was hurting the people he loved most in the world, the person her loved most. He'd heeded Shrimpie's unintended advice and worked to better his relationship with Cora.

But Matthew's death had thrown him fully back into the stew pot when it came to estate matters. He was trying to accept change, really he was. And in some instances he was almost embracing it. But none too gracefully and on top of that, he'd let it all go to his head; well, not to his head really. He was so afraid of a misstep that it made him walk around like a stuffed peacock in an effort to cover his fear. What was he so afraid of, he asked himself again as he had more times than he could remember. With some moderate changes, the estate would be secure for years. So why was he fighting it so much?

Of course, he knew the answer. In this rapidly changing world he was becoming obsolete. Cora would fine him obsolete. That sent a chill through him like no other.

But wasn't he pushing her away anyway with his behavior? He remembered her face when he'd spewed his frustration at Rosamund's. She'd come in smiling, happy in her surprise to see him. And with a few ill chosen words he'd wiped all of it away. Her crestfallen face that night was something he thought would haunt him until his last breath; maybe even beyond. And he'd only made it worse when they returned home. He'd been an insufferable ass. And now… had he finally driven her away? Had he lost her?

"What an ass…" he said angrily into the fire as he watched the flames dance in agreement. But didn't he have a right to be angry at her? After all, she encouraged Bricker and invited him back to Downton. As furious as he was at the man, he couldn't bring himself to blame him. Cora was so enchanting and he should know; she'd held him under her spell for over thirty four years. And now he was risking losing her because of his anger… and his pride.

Staring at the now empty glass in his hand, he wanted to throw it into the fire, smash it against the flames and hear the glass breaking apart into pieces, just as his heart was. But he knew it was a childish impulse and he'd given into far too many of them lately. So he put the glass on the table with a sigh and turned to go up and try to sleep.

He'd only taken two steps, his head bowed in despair when he heard a soft "Robert?"

He looked up to see her standing in the doorway in her dressing gown looking every bit as resplendent as any angel in heaven and his heart did what it always did when he looked at her; it missed a beat. "Cora? What are you doing down here at this hour?"

"What do you think, Robert?"

He stared at her stupefied.. "I…: He looked behind her at the book lined shelves. "You were looking for a book?"

"No, I was looking for my husband. He seemed to be missing."

"I…I didn't think you would wish to see me after… after my behavior." God she looked so beautiful standing there, the light from the fire playing along her side, illuminating her face and casting a glow over her, a very tantalizing glow.

"I didn't at first. I am very angry, Robert." She let out a small huff. "No, not angry…hurt. You've hurt me deeply with your words and your dismissal of me, of my value. And then at the party tonight… you wouldn't speak to me, wouldn't even look at me."

"I…I don't dismiss you, Cora. You are important to me, the most important."

"As a proper society wife, yes; I understand that. But what about as your friend, your confidant, your partner in life, have I no value there?"

He took a hesitant step toward her. "Of course you do. I meant what I said on our anniversary. You are the best companion I could have asked for."

"Companion," she said disconsolately.

"Cora, I know I am not expressing myself well, but I do love you, so very much. I hope you know that."

"I believe I do. But then you dismiss me, my thoughts and opinions. You treat me as if I don't know anything or if I do, my opinion has no value. You treat me as a child. And now you are behaving abominably because someone else noticed me and values my thoughts and opinions."

"I… no, Cora. Bricker was just trying to…" He didn't finish because she turned and fled the room.

Robert stared at the door, desolate for a moment before charging after her. She had just disappeared behind her door when he caught up to her. Not bothering to knock, he charged through the door. She was just discarding her robe and looked up in surprise.

Crossing the room instantly, he growled. "Bricker can't have you. You are my wife… mine," he said in a deep primal voice.

"Robert!"

Before she could continue, he had her in his grasp, his hands on her arms, and was pulling her to him. Something deep and dark had been awakened in him and he felt so completely out of control, a sensation that he did not like. "Mine, do you understand?" And then he kissed her harshly, primitively… passionately. She struggled but then went limp. Somewhere in the fog of his rage and anger he realized it. And he also realized that this was not a passionate weakness, it was surrender in the worst sense.

Backing away, he looked at her broken face, the despair in her expression. She wasn't angry, she wasn't offended, she wasn't… anything. "Oh god Cora, I am sorry, so very sorry. I should not have done that. I…I don't know what I was thinking; I wasn't thinking. Please forgive me."

Her blue eyes turned to his. They were clouded and wilted, lifeless. He had done that, driven the light out of her. It was crushing as he realized it. "I'm sorry," he whispered as he slunk off to his room.

Alone in his room, he cried. He didn't know how much more of this he could stand…they could stand. It was as awful as the time after Sybil's death. No, worse. He truly had caused this gulf between them but he didn't know how to fix it.

The next day he was in the library, looking through some papers to do with the new housing development in the village. It was complicated and he was only beginning to grasp some of the consequences, when Cora entered the room. He looked up at her as she crossed the room toward him.

"I am going to London," she said firmly.

Rising from his seat, he studied her face for a moment. She was angry and hurt and determined. It was all plainly written there. He started to ask why but decided that might not be wise. Instead, he asked "when?"

A glimmer of satisfaction crossed her features. "I'll take the afternoon train. I'll leave in a few minutes."

"You'll stay with Rosamund or will you open the house?"

"Neither. I'll stay at one of the hotels." Her voice was cold.

Robert frowned. "Please Cora…"

"If you are going to ask me not to go then you are wasting your breath," she clipped.

"No, I… I just thought you might be more comfortable if you stayed in our house. I don't like to think of you in a cold, impersonal hotel."

"What you don't like to think of is that I will be there without servants or your sister to watch my every movement. You don't like that I might meet Mr. Bricker while I am there. Why don't you trust me, Robert?"

"I do! I do trust you. I don't trust Bricker; he came to your room, if you'll recall. But I wasn't even thinking of that. I do care for you Cora and I want you to be comfortable. I want…"

"You want me under your thumb. Isn't that it, Robert?"

He was reeling, a heaviness in his chest growing. "Cora, I want… I want things to be the way they were between us."

"Of course you do; you don't like change. You don't want a wife who asks questions or has opinions, one who thinks beyond the latest style or last night's dinner party."

"That's not what I am saying! I… miss… us, what was between us."

"Things have changed, Robert."

He knew he shouldn't say it but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. "Yes, you'd rather flirt with Simon Bricker and have his flattery than my genuine affection."

She huffed angrily and then turned and walked through the door furiously. Robert was stunned both by his actions and hers. "Cora…" he called out to her. Then the heaviness in his chest exploded into intense pain. "Cora, please…: he whimpered as he stumbled forward, trying to follow her. He made only two steps before he collapsed to the floor, the pain unbearable as everything went black.

He woke in his bed, not theirs, but the one in his dressing room. Dr. Clarkson was moving about, giving instructions to some woman he didn't recognize. "Cora," he called out weakly.

Clarkson's face appeared over his. "You are back with us, Lord Grantham."

"Cora?"

"Mr. Branson has gone to fetch her from the train. She had left for London before you were found. Lady Mary and Lady Edith are here. Shall I send them in?"

"No. I want Cora." He knew he was being childish but he didn't care. He needed Cora.

"Yes, well….she should be here very soon."

Robert looked away, slipping into sorrow. Would she want to see him? "What happened?" He struggled to look at the doctor but he needed to know. Was he going to die?

"You've had an attack… the heart," Clarkson said carefully. "You'll need rest but with care I believe you will be fine in a few months."

Months? Robert could hardly believe what he was hearing. "That long? It was bad then?"

"Bad enough, Lord Grantham. You're very lucky though, as Carson found you almost immediately and called for help. You'll need to let Mr. Branson handle the estate and let your heart mend. But in time, I believe you will be fine."

Robert groaned as he let his eyes close. Let his heart mend… only Cora had the power to mend his heart and she… He sighed heavily. Would she want him now?

The next time he awoke, the room was growing dark. Someone was sitting in a chair beside his bed. "Cora?" he said softly.

"No Papa, it's me, Mary. Mama returned a few minutes ago. She'll be in soon, I'm sure."

"I'm not," he mumbled and drifted back into darkness.

When he woke again the room was dark. He looked toward the place Mary had been earlier but could see no one. He was alone then, left to die on his own. He deserved it, he supposed. He'd had the greatest treasure any man could ask for in his wife and somehow he had let her slip away. Yes, he'd slip away into death; life wouldn't be bearable without her anyway.

Suddenly there was a sliver of light coming from the direction of the door to her room. It used to be their room. He watched as an apparition moved slowly toward him. This was it then; the light was from heaven, or perhaps hell, and some ghost was coming to claim him, lead him to the other side. Well, he would go without a fight; there was no point without Cora.

The spirit surprised him as it moved to the chair by his bed and sat. He watched closely for a sign that it was time but saw none. And then he heard a strangled cry, "oh Robert, I am sorry, so very sorry…"

Why would a spirit speak to him? And then hope was born as he peered at the spirit in the darkness. "Cora?"

"Robert, you're awake?" She sounded surprised and… happy?

"Yes," he managed to choke out. "I was afraid you wouldn't come. Earlier Mary said…"

"I was so upset when I got word Robert. I hurried back as quickly as I could. Mary sat with you while I spoke with Dr. Clarkson and she said you were awake. But by the time I came in, you were asleep again."

"I… you're here," he said, feeling life seeping back into him.

"Yes, I'm here Robert; where I should be. We'll talk more when you are stronger but this…this chasm between us must go." She reached for his hand and held it in hers and he was reminded of another time, not so many years ago, when she'd been the one who had cheated death and he held her hand. And he remembered what had transpired between him and that maid just a few hours before that. "Yes, I agree," he said softly. "I'm feeling better already, I think."

"Good," she said resolutely.

"You … you won't leave me then?"

"How could I Robert? You are my heart, my life. I would sooner rip out my own heart."

"I'm sorry," he said meekly. "I'm sorry I've been so… neglectful," he said as he began to cry.

"That's enough for now, Robert," she said in an alarmed tone. "We'll get through this, just like we've worked our way through so many other things. We've had 34 years to learn how, remember? For now, you must rest."

"You'll stay?"

"Always," she said sweetly.

Robert relaxed but his hand remained on hers. "I love you," he murmured as his eyes drifted shut. "And I love you," he heard in a soft reply as he let himself drift into sleep. She was here, they would be alright, his world had been righted and now he could truly rest. Tomorrow they would begin to rebuild but for tonight, she was here.


End file.
